Sleep Deprivation
by LadyLini
Summary: In which Peter learns the drawbacks of no sleep. Collab. with MarvelLuver.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This will be two chapters, so hang around!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spider-Man. I don't own Marvel. I don't make money from this. I don't even have money.**

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The wind pushed Peter roughly against the side of the building. The street lights below shone like yellow beacons of light in the dark night.

The man screamed.

Peter jumped from the roof, a strand of web keeping him from falling to a premature doom, and landed deftly behind the assailant. "Next time you choose an alley to mug someone, at least pick one I'm not in spitting distance of!" he ranted, "Alright, drop the money and I'll give you a five second head start."

"Y– you're–Spider-Man!" the attacker stuttered, dropping the money and scurrying out of the alley.

The victim hauled himself up on shaky legs. "Who are you?"

"Really?" Peter asked, "No one seems to grasp the concept of the mask!"

The victim stared in amazement as a line of web from Peter's wrist lodged in the roof of a neighboring building, flinging the spandex-clad youth up, up, and away.

"Thanks!" the man yelled into the once again silent night.

As Peter approached his aunt's house, he put a stop to the web-shooting and landed smoothly on the sidewalk, next to a shed, where he quickly lost the spider-themed get-up.

He then continued on, until he came to the store nearest his home. It took him barely more than six minutes to select the lean cut of meat his aunt had originally sent him for.

"Hey, Aunt Mae!" Peter called, closing the front door behind him.

"Did you get it?" Aunt Mae asked, coming out of the kitchen.

"You mean the eggs?" Peter teased, dumping his dirty sneakers by the front mat and wiggling his now bare toes in the carpet. It felt nice to finally get out of the tight spider-suit.

"If you don't have my beef, I'll whack you upside the head!" Aunt Mae threatened, wooden spoon in hand. She eyed his bare feet with worry. "Weren't your feet cold?" she asked. "No socks– that's dangerous on a night like this. You'll end up with hypothermia or something!"

"Nah, I uh…" Peter rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit, "I was just hot this morning, so…"

"Maybe you're sick," she decided, reaching to feel his forehead.

"Aunt Mae!" Peter protested, ducking and batting her hand away. "I just didn't feel like wearing socks!"

It was obvious that Mae didn't buy a word of it, but as she didn't have a reason to believe that Peter would lie about something so small and trivial, let him escape to his room. _Teenagers_.

"Really dodged a bullet there, didn't ya, Parker?" Peter muttered aloud. He shook his head and flicked the switch that would lock his door.

Socks. Of all the things he'd forgotten, it had to be socks. If the fact that he had forgotten his socks became the reason that his double-life was revealed, Peter was pretty sure he'd simply die of embarrassment. Aunt Mae was far too observant for her own good.

"Dinner'll be ready in twenty!" Aunt Mae called, her voice coming from the kitchen.

"Alright!" Peter yelled back, sinking down into his desk chair. The movement rattled the mouse of the computer sitting in front of him, waking up the screen. This, of course, reminded him of the school work given to him, last Friday… Due tomorrow.

Oops.

-l-l-l-l-l-

Peter awoke the next morning to a frantic beeping noise that was most definitely _not_ his alarm clock.

He groaned.

"We have a 1-2-8-5 in progress, heading South on North Park Avenue. All available units are requested at the scene."

The voice droned on. And on. And on. And on. Was it going to shut up?

Peter lifted his head a fraction of an inch and peered at the device on his nightstand. Of all the times his police-scanner had to go off, 3:16 am. was the time it chose. _Of course._

If one of the bad guys didn't kill him, sleep deprivation certainly would. Food for thought.

It wasn't until he had rolled back over, having decided the police could handle this one, and was nearly asleep, that something occurred to him.

He bolted out of bed and into his suit.

Peter was 99.4528% sure that he had memorized all of the NYPD's codes. So why had he never heard of a 1-2-8-5? He could think of only two answers.

Either the NYPD had decided to completely revamp their systems overnight, or this was something so huge, so terrible, that he'd never heard of it before.

His conclusion?

Spider-Man was needed.

Peter yawned.


	2. Chapter 2

**A****/N: I forgot to mention that this is a ****collaboration with MarvelLuver, in the last chapter. Consider it mentioned, now. :)**

**Disclaimer: Hey, guess what? I still don't own Marvel! Definitely don't own Spider-Man... oh, and I don't own a heli-carrier, either. Oh, well. **

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Waking up Aunt Mae was not on Peter's "List of Things to Do Before I Die," rather, it was on his list of "Things I'd Really Rather Not Do Ever Again," so he decided against the course of action that was likely to wake her. He left through his bedroom window.

North Park Avenue was a few streets away from Oscorp Tower, so Peter didn't have any troubles finding it. The only trouble he had was that the police were already there.

"Spider-Man!" one of the cops yelled, through a megaphone, "Stand down! I repeat, stand down! The police have the situation under control!"

Sure, they did. Sure.

Peter didn't waste his breath on a reply. He had already spotted the large, spike-covered robot terrorizing the avenue. There were multiple bullet holes across its chest and head, but they didn't seem to affect the robot.

Peter leapt off the roof he had been perched on, trailing a strand of web behind him, and landed in between the police-line and the robot.

"Spider-Man! You have disobeyed a direct order," the cop informed him. It addressed the group of police next. "You may fire on the Spider-Man, as needed."

Peter let out a sigh. Couldn't they just be grateful?

His ponderings were cut short, however, by the forward movement of the robot.

What followed next was a flurry of web-slinging and red-streaks, followed closely by grey spikes and the whirring of the robot's machinery. Somehow, Peter managed to knock the thing over.

The robot fell to the ground loudly, firing spikes randomly out of its arms, into the surrounding buildings.

The policemen dove behind their cruisers in an attempt to protect themselves from the robot's projectiles, while Peter attempted to plug the holes the spikes were being fired from with his webs.

A handful of brave officers fired off a few shots, some of the aimed at the robot, others at Peter, but they quickly died away.

Peter finally managed to get his webbing into the robot's middle, sticking the wires and gears to each other. The robot twitched twice, before going still.

Peter got slowly to his feet and kicked the robot once on the leg. It didn't move.

Just to be safe, Peter snatched one of the spikes the robot had thrown, with his web, and impaled the robotic-rhino. "You're welcome," he called to the cautiously emerging policemen.

A small voice replied, "Get lost, kid!"

"Kid?" Peter repeated incredulously. "_Kid?_ Did you just see that?" He gestured to the still robot on the pavement. "Seriously?"

The voice was silent.

Slowly, the gathered officers began applauding. A few even took off their hats. But Peter was already swinging away.

He really needed some sleep.


End file.
